Tears Unshed
by Pocky King Windy
Summary: SLASH WARNING - Sauron/Elrond - Elrond thinks of his past when he liked Sauron... The past then resurfaces as the ring was not destroyed.


Tears Unshed  
  
By Windy McDohl  
  
Disclaimer: All characters portrayed here belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. The fanfiction belongs to me, but it's simply not worth the trouble stealing, I tell you. There. All set. Thanks.  
  
WARNING: This fiction contains slash. Literally. If you don't like slash, please don't proceed.  
  
Note: It's a little on the AU side, this fic. You'll know why, I suppose. The characters may be a little OOC too. Oh, man, I'm a blunder, aren't I? Okay, okay. Just let me be a bit psychotic and say a little of what I like… I have always wanted Sauron to be a protagonist at times. Call it the wicked supporting the wicked. SO, it's very AU-like in that sense. Hope it's okay!  
  
NOTE: If you would like to see the htmled version at my site (it looks a lot nicer there!), please visit this link address http://www.geocities.com/arc_angel_seph/fanfic/unshed.html/ Well, probably 'cause when this is uploaded up FF.net the whole half might be erased by the server, like it was before. Sorry, but I'm pretty sick of reposting over and over again... ;_; Take pity on me!  
  
_______________________________  
  
  
Rivendell was a lovely, serene place. The air there smelt sweet, and most of its inhabitants were friendly and peaceable people - they were the elves, the fairest of all creatures to ever walk on the face of Middle-Earth, yet there was darkness brewing somewhere, to swallow up their tranquility.  
  
Lord Elrond leaned over the balcony, regarding the company below him. He could see how merry the four little people were, and how relieved they felt when they were reunited once more. These were good people; they could be trusted, he knew. Somehow fate had brought them here, but they did have a cause for this mission. Their hearts were pure, they would not be easily influenced, he reasoned. Then he averted his gaze to another distant figure.  
  
This young man… Oh, he was indeed very young to Elrond. The Lord of Rivendell chuckled at his thoughts, and looked at this 'young man' again. Yes, he knew this person's heart condition. He was a good man; he was hope to nearly everyone, and the love of Arwen's life. "Estel", they called him, but to Elrond, this was Aragorn, his foster son.  
  
And then, his eyes fell on the form of an old man. He was wise and kind, very sagely and experienced in handling many difficult matters. Fate had let him prevail in his own way; otherwise he would have died in Saruman's hands. Lord Elrond accepted Gandalf's presence very well indeed, though a little disturbed that Gandalf had brought an amount of danger to Rivendell.  
  
  
"This ring… it brings calamity to all who hold it," Elrond mused quietly, caught up in his own thoughts. "Are you sure that this Hobbit will be able to withstand all this pressure?"  
  
"Indeed he can't," came the reply. Gandalf combed his fingers through his thick gray beard thoughtfully. "That is why I had decided to let him leave… and to leave the ring behind to another's hands."  
  
"The ring cannot stay here," Elrond's response was nearly instant. "You know that!"  
  
"Of course I do."  
  
"Then how will you solve this matter?"  
  
"I will…" Gandalf's features darkened a little; "I will leave it to the humans…"  
  
"The humans," Elrond echoed in Elvish, aghast, and a little sarcastically. "It was the human heart that brought the end of this to a new start! It was a human who had the chance to bring peace to Middle-Earth, but he did not take it! He risked happiness in place of power! I was there all those years ago, Gandalf! I saw it with my own eyes!"  
  
Gandalf swallowed back his rage. He knew that there was truth in what Lord Elrond had said. Sadly, he bowed his head and admitted of not knowing what else to do.  
  
"We should call a council, then," Elrond suggested, calming down at last. However, he still spoke in Elvish. "Let us discuss what we have to do. Meanwhile, you can all stay here - it is quite safe here, even if Saruman's forces are advancing."  
  
Gandalf heartily agreed, and soon messengers were dispatched to call the other Lords to gather together for a discussion. After that, Lord Elrond proceeded to return to his chambers.  
  
______________________________  
  
  
Gracefully he descended down the steps, dressed in the flowing white robe that was a particular favorite of his. His skin glowed in the way the elves' did, radiant and unblemished, smooth to the touch. They never aged, and he still looked remarkably young to the human eye, though he was just past his thousandth birthday a few days ago.  
  
His flecked elven eyes caught the figure dressed in black below, and he smiled in greeting. The figure in black smiled back, his eyes drinking in the ethereal beauty of the person that now stood before him.  
  
"I have come to congratulate you on your newly achieved position as Lord of Rivendell, my friend." The dark figure directed his hand to the many messengers carrying caskets of gold and silver, filled with the delicate delights of the world, to the young-looking Elf Lord, who smiled politely in return.  
  
"I thank you kindly for that, my good friend Sauron," he looked at the Dark Lord, scanning his face for any telltale looks that hid worries from him. They had become quite good friends over the years. Whenever the other was in any trouble, they would each come for help to the other, placing the utmost trust in him. Was Sauron in any trouble?  
  
"I have no matters arising, Lord Elrond," Sauron was quick to break the silence, as if reading the Elf Lord's mind. "'Tis only a friendly visit to my dear friend to double his joy."  
  
Elrond's quick ears did catch the stressed word, however, he hid his suspicions behind another brilliant smile. "I am glad of that, Great Lord. Do take a rest; you must be tired from traveling so far. A banquet shall be prepared for you in the evening. We can then exchange our idle banter, for I have matters to see to right now."  
  
At that Lord Elrond motioned to his elven servants to show Sauron his room for the night. After Sauron could no longer be seen, he started to walk off in the direction of the conference held outside.  
  
  
  
He brushed his fingers through his auburn locks carefully, for the celebration of his becoming a Lord was to be held that evening with many guests. He couldn't help smiling and staring at the mirror before him, for he rarely did have the time to groom himself that well so much, or to look at his reflection long enough.  
  
He was elegant enough, he knew, to flaunt about of. Yet looks never really mattered to Elrond. To him, work, honor and generosity were the essence of life, and he lived by that book. However, to look at oneself once in a while and to be vain for only a moment was somehow harmless and quite enjoyable at times. And now was the time for him to stop and do just that, penchance he would never be able to do it again.  
  
The sun cast tiny stands of light upon the droplets of water in his auburn locks, making it shine like dew upon silk. A warm bath had been drawn for him, and he had a privilege that day to take as long a bath as he liked, and to groom himself according to his own tastes. His newly washed hair had already dried, as was smooth and clean, shining like silk in the sun, spare for a few drops of water that was still attached to it. He silently imagined them to be rare pearls, while cleansing himself in the bath water filled with fragrant flower petals and sweet smelling herbs. His peach white skin contrasted greatly with the gaiety colors of the blossoms, and that too, would have been something he was proud of, if he had ever taken a look at it.  
  
A pair of eyes watched him as he bathed, both the feelings of lust and admiration written on them…  
  
Stepping out of the bath, he draped a cloak over himself to dry. He was alone in the room, or so he thought, and therefore he was not ashamed of walking around and moving to the dressing table clad only in that. Picking up a comb, he began to smoothen out his hair, some parts of which were tangled from the water in the bath. Once they were free of tangles and knots, he started to braid them, rather slowly, lost in his own thoughts. He had still quite a lot of time left before the feast, and he meant to look his best then.  
  
The Elf Lord was so lost in his thoughts that he had not felt the fingers of another stroking his golden-brown locks, nor did he perceive the reflection of a dark figure in the mirror, which was standing behind him…  
  
"You're beautiful, so beautiful…"  
  
The voices around him hissed praises into his ear, and that was when Elrond was jolted back to reality. He jumped up wildly, startled, when he finally perceived the figure behind him.  
  
"Sauron! Whatever are you doing here!" he exclaimed, desperately inching backwards and trying to hide his nudity behind the delicate material that could be easily penetrated even by the naked eye. He could sense the man's eyes roving his body, and felt strangely disgusted and embarrassed of that.  
  
"I wished to have a private chat with you, my precious," came the hissing reply. "That is all."  
  
"We could have just saved that for later," Elrond tried to gather his calm and wits together again. "And you will refrain from calling me 'Precious' or such, Lord Sauron."  
  
"I will not," Sauron stepped closer to the Elf Lord, rather confidently. His hand reached out to tug at a few strands of the elf's hair. "I have my right to call you what I wish, as you do to call me what you wish."  
  
"I wish to have nothing to do with you," Elrond squirmed back from the dark lord's touch. He glared back as defiantly as he could, but to no avail. Sauron was not easily intimidated. The dark lord only smirked as he inched closer to the helpless elf who was not armed with anything, as he had not expected anything to happen on that day… at least, not in his chamber. Moreover, he viewed Sauron as his friend, a political confidant, and a trusted ally. Now… Sauron was up to this… This…  
  
"You're despicable," Elrond hissed angrily at Sauron, whose wicked grin was growing wider at the moment. At last he was cornered, and the Dark Lord loomed over him gloatingly. The elf sank back in, as if trying to disappear into the ground, to avoid Sauron the best he could.  
  
"Come now," Sauron liked what he saw; the material obscuring the Elf Lord's body was not solid enough to hide all, and he knew that Elrond was trying to conceal himself. It somehow made the game more interesting, at least, to Sauron. "Come now," he said again; "I am not asking too much of you, am I? As I said, I only wanted to chat privately with you."  
  
Elrond gave a yell of surprise as he felt the cloth being snatched away from his hands. He hugged himself in shame, whilst glaring daggers at the Dark Lord for being so untactful in his act. Sauron, however, looked amused.  
  
"We are good friends, are we not? Why are you hiding yourself from me like that?"  
  
"What do you wish to chat about, then?" Elrond asked, trying to change the subject. Sauron chuckled, but humored the Elf Lord all the same.  
  
"There is something I wanted to give you," the Dark Lord smiled. He produced a small garnet colored casket lined with satin threads and opened it slowly. In it was a gold ring, plain and simple, but it looked fine, all the same. Elrond looked at it in wonder, trying to speculate what the Dark Lord was up to. He forgot then that he was clad in nothing, and gingerly reached out a hand to pull the ring out of the casket. Sauron smiled as he did so, observing the elf carefully through shrewd eyes. He was confident that he would not be rejected.  
  
"This is…?"  
  
"A ring, my precious," the reply was no longer hissing, but rather pleasant in fact. Sauron clasped his hand round Elrond's round, slender shoulders, and slid his palms down to relish the feel of the smooth elven skin. He sincerely liked the elf, and had no with to force Elrond into anything, though he wanted to do so badly. It was his love for the Elf Lord that stopped him from doing the shameful act of… raping. He inwardly cringed for the thought had surfaced in his heart not only once, and he sinned for it. He wanted to have a good impression on Elrond, whether or not his heart wanted otherwise.  
  
"I wish only to ask for a little favor - that is, an Elven hand in marriage."  
  
Silence reined the sunny chamber for a while, as Elrond quietly pondered over the Dark Lord's request.  
  
"Sauron…"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm sorry…" he hesitated. Sauron lifted his brows at the elf questioningly, but in truth he knew already what the elf was about to say.  
  
"I… I cannot accept your proposal," Elrond lowered his head shyly. He could not explain what he felt, but all the same, he knew that this was not what he wanted. He had an elven heart that never changed, and his heart he did follow. It had told him no, it had to him to refuse what he was asked of. And as he was commanded, he did. He said no; he refused. He looked up only to see twin orbs, which were flashing in anger and disbelief. "Forgive me…"  
  
"You are forgiven," the voice quaked slightly. Sauron was trying to keep his emotions controlled, and Elrond knew it. He hoped that Sauron would not do the worst, but he knew too, better than to trust that hope. Sauron was, after all, a 'Dark Lord'.  
  
Leave… please leave…  
  
As if reading his mind, Sauron turned abruptly, and left.  
  
  
  
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Finally, nearly half a millennium passed by, and Lord Elrond heard no more of Sauron. Still, his heart did ache, of unknown reasons, yet he desired never to find out why.  
  
They were faced with a new danger, and Sauron was behind it all. Elrond was offered a ring, but declined it, feeling it too hurting to accept anything from the Dark Lord anymore. And, as luck would have it, Elrond was fortunately spared for listening to his 'heart'.  
  
Three went to the Elves, the fairest of men,  
  
Five to the Dwarfs, great miners, lords of the gold in the earth,  
  
And nine to men, the wisest of sages, yet the most greedy of all.  
  
______________________________  
  
  
Lord Elrond had certainly aged unusually. Elves did not age that fast, nor did much permanent blemishes such as wrinkles of maturity mar their countenances. But given, anyone could understand his aging, if they had but listened to his side of a story… Elrond aged not of time, but instead, he aged of grief and worry, for both Rivendell and Sauron. The war that was waged a long time ago still left a lasting impression on him, and he remembered it well; it was as clear as yesterday.  
  
  
  
His comrades had fallen in battle in tens of thousands. The tide of battle had quickly turned against them, as the dark forces were trained to be unbeatable and steadfast. Moreover, their leader was an experienced ruler and general in his time, and knew exactly how to route the allied forces' escape. Elrond could not help but to wonder about what would happen in the future as he fought.  
  
What has happened to Sauron?  
  
Why was he doing this? Did power hunger him so much?  
  
It was jealousy. Though no one knew that, it was jealousy that made Sauron go mad in his love for power. The men were great, the elves were strong, and the dwarfs were sturdy… And it was a man, too, that had taken everything away from him, or so he believed.  
  
Elrond was in love with a human? He had heard news of it, spread by gossips… could it really be true?  
  
The thought of Elrond even looking once at a man disgusted Sauron. His eyes gleamed with a certain lust for blood, especially for the blood of man, to be spilt. He hated them with a vengeance, and killed as many as he could, caring a little less for the elves and the dwarfs who were also in the battlefield. At last, he found his worthy opponent, whom he knew that if he killed, it was already half the battle won. He struck at Isildur, the son of a man, a son of a king.  
  
The warrior fell back, stunned as the blade came crashing down to his side, drawing blood. The life stream began to gush out in torrents and he frantically clasped a hand on his side to stop himself from losing more blood. Above him a shadow loomed, wicked and dark. It seemed to rejoice at his pain, drinking in his suffering and his wheezing last breath. The man's sword was broken, and he quite suddenly felt helpless.  
  
But he wasn't going to give up.  
  
Frantically he searched around for a blade, and his eyes fell on one, of a fallen comrade's. Now, if only fate would present him a chance…  
  
"Isildur!"  
  
Sauron glanced back almost immediately, upon hearing a voice he thought that he would never hear again. His eyes fell upon the elf, who stood not far off, a bow grasped firmly on one hand. His quiver was almost empty, but he did seem more concerned about the human than himself. Sauron was right. Killing this human would proof more satisfying than killing another hundred of his kind.  
  
"Sauron! Please stop this madness!" the elf begged in his native language so that Isildur could not understand what he was saying. It would not help if anyone knew of his relation with Sauron.  
  
"Why should I?" the Dark Lord hissed in reply, bitterly, also in Elvish. "You call his name and not mine in times of desperation! You care for me not, as I do you!"  
  
"He is but a comrade! He is a mortal man!" Elrond denied quickly. "Look to see now, we were friends before, and I do care for you both!"  
  
"Then there is more reason for me to kill him, so that you will care for me only!"  
  
Isildur could not understand what the conversation was about, but all the same, he wouldn't have been able to, since he was bleeding too badly to think coherently at that time. To him, a conversation between Elrond and Sauron or not, it was an opportunity to destroy all evil. So, Isildur, the son of man, picked up his comrade's sword, said a prayer of blessing, and courageously swung it in full momentum at the Dark Lord. Caught off guard, Sauron could not dodge the bow in time, and the blade severed his fingers, along with this body.  
  
As Elrond looked on with horror written all over his face, the ring went tumbling down… Along with the severed finger and onto the earth.  
  
The explosion that occurred was great, shaking the earth and the skies. Soon all was clear, and the enemy had been annihilated. The allied forces rejoiced. But the commotion was unheeded in the dead calm that embraced two people.  
  
"Stay still, human," Elrond commanded gently; "You're bleeding too much."  
  
The human said nothing, regarding the elf in a strangely quiet manner. Then he spoke up. "You were talking to Sauron, as if you don't fear him. I saw it with my own eyes… What were you speaking of?"  
  
"It matters nothing," Elrond replied stiffly, wrapping the man's wounds up with a bandage. "But if you must know, I was just trying to convince him to change his course without any bloodshed."  
  
"You were confident that you could," Isildur noted. "You must have known him a long time ago, have you not?"  
  
"Yes." The answer was short. Silence engulfed the both of them in the midst of merry rejoicing of the forces. After a while, Isildur sat up to face the elf. He glanced at the ring on the earth, and moved to detach it from the Dark Lord's lifeless finger. In a flash he saw the words - in fire it was written, they were words of great power.  
  
Elrond saw the ring in the human's grasp, and backed off immediately, frightened. He could still feel Sauron watching them. The unholy desire he saw in the human's eyes as he regarded the ring did not go unnoticed by the Elf Lord. Gingerly, Elrond stepped up to look the human in his eyes.  
  
What he saw did not trill him.  
  
"Throw the ring away, Isildur," he urged, his voice quivering slightly. "Throw it away… Destroy it…"  
  
Isildur looked up, but no longer with the human eyes he had. They were the eyes of Sauron. A hand jerked up in the direction of the elf, and it pulled back with force once it contacted with his sleeve, dragging the elf down to him.  
  
"You're beautiful, so beautiful…"  
  
Elrond leapt backwards at once when he heard the familiar words of praise in his sharp ears. Cruelly, he kicked Isildur hard in order to bring the man out of his possessed state.  
  
"You fool!" he almost shouted in rage. "Discard the ring! Destroy it! See what it has done to you! Can you not see that the spirit of evil is bound to it?"  
  
Isildur was snapped back to reality as the hard kick landed on his midsection. In pain he regarded the elf's angry glare, and at last stood up to follow the elf to the mountaintop. He too, desired the world to be free of darkness…  
  
But the human heart was forever changing. The ring survived.  
  
______________________________  
  
  
Night was falling fast in Rivendell, and most of the lights were appearing in the rooms through the windows. Below him Elrond saw two people he recognized well. He smiled a little when he observed the two lovers, for he foresaw that they would have an easier and far less complex love life compared to his.  
  
He had certainly mellowed with age, he knew, and looked far older than any elf his age would have looked. He may still look young, but wrinkles tarnished his once-smooth skin, in a way completely ruining his good Elven looks. But all the same he was grateful, for it was his once-good looks that created chaos in Middle-Earth, and served to be so much sadness to him. Somehow he did miss Sauron, and wished once or twice to have accepted the proposal made to him all those years ago…  
  
But time would not turn back for him. Not now, not ever. He was forced to live reality in its own time.  
  
Walking back to his dressing table, he pulled a chair and sat facing the mirror. The candlelight flickered as his breath touched its flame, and from a drawer, he pulled out a small satin casket. It was opened, and a single gold ring was pulled out of its indentation. Elrond placed it in his palm and squeezed it gently. The night air hissed in riddled voices, and he imagined hearing Sauron's voice, once not clouded with evil, as it was, so long ago.  
  
"Love you still even as age has marred my once elegance?" the Elvish words mingled with the gentle breeze.  
  
I love you still, the wind whispered; I always shall.  
  
Elrond closed his eyes, breathing deeply. The candle was extinguished by the current of air he exhaled, the smoke swirling in furls in the cool dark of the night. They formed intrinsic designs in the air, twining with the tears unshed, disappearing as the breeze swept the past away, and out of the open window.  
  
  
______________________________  
  
The End  
______________________________  
  
  
Note: *Types madly* ALL DONE! *Dies* 


End file.
